


The Question of Heritage

by aerynthesebacean



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:03:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11664993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerynthesebacean/pseuds/aerynthesebacean
Summary: The Queen returns to Denerim after her time advising at Skyhold. The information she returns with will change Alistair's life forever. The question of heritage will finally be answered.Please read and review! Feedback is appreciated!





	The Question of Heritage

After witnessing the king’s anger at the Grand Enchanter back at Haven, the Inquisitor felt it was right to tell his wife, since she was currently at Skyhold. She had just been exiled from Ferelden, and therefore the Queen’s jurisdiction, but it felt only right to see if the queen would fare any better talking to her. She had also heard from Leliana the rumours that surrounded Fiona’s connection to the Fereldan king. Again, she felt it was only right to inform her.

*

“Grand Enchanter, may I enter?” Emilia asked, knocking at the elf’s door. A meek affirmation was all that she heard in reply. “How are you feeling? What happened cannot have been easy.”

“The boy did what he had to, Your Grace. He was simply protecting your kingdom, as much as I wish that hadn’t been necessary.” Fiona said with a sigh. “There are so many lives at risk now, because of my actions.” She continued, shaking her head remorsefully.

“The boy? A strange way to address the King of Ferelden, don’t you think?” Emilia retorted, raising an eyebrow at the elf. Fiona’s startled gaze flicked to the Warden Queen, she swallowed quickly, trying to quickly form her justification. As great as the beauty of her queen was, the weight of her insinuation laid even heaver on her countenance.

“I knew his father well. Maric. We were- friends.” She spoke, her words seemed tinged with sadness, even regret, to the queen.

“A friend of the king’s father who refers to him as ‘boy’. Enchanter, is there something you aren’t telling me?” Knowing full well that she was right. The elf’s eyes were downcast, she was shaking her head again. “I only wanted to see him happy, and yet here I am.” The queen simply looked on in silence, waiting for a semblance of explanation from the mage stood in front of her. “Alistair, the king. He-” The words seemed heavy on her tongue, “He is my son.” A weight dropped immediately to the pit of Emilia’s stomach, her head struggling to process the information. A flurry of emotions viciously circled her head, snapping back and forth between anger, sadness, frustration, and happiness. She knew that something was awry, but this… she had not expected this.

She didn’t know how to feel. Emilia’s usual outward composure must have faltered, as she heard the Enchanter ask if she was okay, her voice strangely distant given their proximity. She raised a hand at the woman, allowing herself time to process, the elf stayed silent. Emilia collected herself, took a deep breath in before she spoke, once again regaining her composure. The fierceness of the protection in the queen’s eyes as she pressed her stare into Fiona almost made the Enchanter take a step back. Fiona’s heart ached at the sight, knowing that behind that fierceness was the Ferelden-wide known affection and concern for the queen’s first and only love. It broke her heart to know that this was the family she had missed out being part of.

“You have some questions to answer, Enchanter.” The queen spoke at last, her words clipped, formal. Things were not different simply because she was now addressing her mother-in-law.

 

*

 

The conversation between Emilia and Fiona extended beyond a simple interrogation, as the more the queen learnt about the mother of her husband, the softer her words became. Fiona had not had an easy life, and the situation at hand simply made things harder. The continued tragedy of her life seemed to minimise Emilia’s previous hardships in return. The knowledge that she had been made to give up her only child pulled at her own heartstrings, knowing how unbearable it was for her to ever leave her children, let alone be forced to give them away. Towards the end of their conversation the two would have looked like old friends to any outsider, laughing, talking jovially, it was the picture of happiness. But the weight of having to relay all this to Alistair hung over her, clouding her mind ever so slightly. It gave her cause to finally take her leave of the elf. They shared a final, quick hug before the queen retreated to her quarters.

 

**

Emilia had been home for over a week now, and those first few days had been long, intimate moments between the couple that had been long overdue, and long missed. She knew now that she would finally have to unfurl all that she had learnt at her time in Skyhold, starting with the Grand Enchanter. The weight of the knowledge weighed heavy on her conscience, twisting its way around her heart, constricting, suffocating, agonising over the decision she should make. Withholding the information from Alistair would break her heart, but she knew that his reaction to such news would hurt her just as much. The years of being king had not assuaged his sensitive nature, to her he was the same warden recruit that she fell in love with. Somehow that made her task that much harder.

Emilia had found Alistair in his study, where most of his time was spent. She knocked quietly on the door, enough to make him look up, and as soon as he did, her gaze cast downwards. “Is everything alright, my dear? You look as if you have something on your mind.” He asked, the concern strong in his voice, he never doubted her strength, but seeing her with such an expression left him to feel only worry for her.

“At Skyhold, I spoke to the Grand Enchanter. The Inquisitor told me what happened, all of it. I- I wanted to see how she was feeling.” Emilia spoke, now feeling guilty in the presence of Alistair about her actions.

“You spoke to her? After what she did to _our_ family? To _our_ kingdom? Emilia.” He replied, the volume of his voice rising as he spoke, frustration tinged the edge of his words.

“Let me finish, Alistair.” Her words were sharper, more pointed now, she looked up at him, the fierceness in her eyes had once again returned. Alistair remained silent, allowing his wife to speak freely, the look in her eyes was one usually reserved for the likes of selfish nobles and dignitaries, or anyone who spoke ill of her family, _all_ of her family. “I may not agree with her actions, but the woman has lost everything as a result. Her home, any life in Ferelden she may have had, and her family…” Her words trailed off. “Family.” She whispered, looking down once more. “I know her loss. I know how hard it is. Her actions do not mean that she does not _feel_ , Alistair.” She sighed, and paused for a moment, wondering how to approach what she intended to say. Her head had begun to throb, she hastily untied her hair, removing the pins that were holding it into place, she dropped them all unceremoniously on to the floor, they skittered across the tiles as she shook down her dark hair, she had let it grow longer a few years into her reign, as she no longer needed to keep it out of her face. “As we were talking, I learnt some information that, well, pertains to you.” Her blue eyes flicked back up to her husband’s face, allowing her to watch the confusion unfold across his visage, yet he remained silent still. “She was… friends with Maric, more than friends apparently.” Her reluctance to speak was palpable, her breaths were quivering, her hands shaking also. “She claims to be your mother.”

The silence was unbearable. It made the air thick. A man who was usually so talkative, so expressive and jovial. The silence was disturbing. Emilia trained her eyes on her husband’s face, watching the confusion spread, watching him attempting to process the information.

“I need some air.” Was all he said, before opening the door and disappearing out of sight, leaving several of the guards trailing after him. Emilia could only watch him leave, at moments like these she could only give him the space and time he needed to think, becoming king had not changed that. She placed her head in her hands, sighing deeply, hoping that the Maker would watch over her beloved.

The queen waited patiently, attempting to gauge the passing of time, an impossible task, really. She waited as long as she felt she could before walking out of the study, hoping that Alistair was to be found where she thought he would have gone. She made her way to the battlements. As she walked outside she was bathed in moonlight, the pale orb overlooking their castle in its’ entirety, including the distant figure of her husband. She let out a breath of relief at the sight of him, and holding her hands clasped in front of her, she began to walk over to him.

He was staring out into the distance, his expression hard, confused. Emilia unclasped her hands and gently placed one on his arm, he turned to look at her, his expression softening and turning more towards sadness. “It seems rather cruel, doesn’t it? After all these years, and _that_ was how I met her.” He spoke quietly, leaning in to Emilia’s touch. He turned to face her, Emilia’s grasp faltered, and let go, she could only look up at him, waiting for him to express himself. She had been the bearer of this news, and his family had always been a sensitive topic. She almost felt guilty for telling him.

“You deserved to know, Alistair. Not what followed but, that your father was a good man, that your mother was not some serving girl he forced himself upon. They loved each other, and Fiona loved you, it was not through choice that she gave you up. I know this does not change how things are, or how you feel,” Emilia spoke, her words falling out of her faster than she could properly form them. Alistair smiled at her, cupping her jaw with one hand.

“I’m glad that you told me, love. It’s just difficult to process, especially in the scenario that you have banished your own mother unknowingly.” He replied, deflecting the pain with humour as he usually did. “I cannot change what happened, the Grand Enchanter shall never return to Ferelden. But I would like to speak with her, once, to ask about my father, to ask about me. I deserve that much at least.” He continued, the sadness returning once more to his voice. “It feels ironic, to have only family taken away by my own doing.” His hand fell away from her face, only for Emilia to take it in her own.

“You have your own family now, our family.” Emilia said, warmth in her voice as she thought about the three miracles that the Maker blessed them with, children that were thought impossible to ever exist.

“You’re right, Maker you’re always right.” Alistair beamed, thinking about the three miracles that were their children, contentedly sleeping within the castle walls.

“I’m glad you think so.” She said, her voice only just registering.

“As if you would let my say otherwise.” Emilia shook her head, a smile on her lips, which Alistair covered with his own. The question of Alistair’s heritage was no longer a mystery, of that, the pair were both relieved.


End file.
